Good news about Invictus: Just because it's set in the
southernmost reaches of what sometimes still is called "the dark
continent"; and it involves political events of two decades ago,
metaphorically explained by way of a locally little-known sport; and it
draws its title from a Victorian poem with a dead-language title;
doesn't mean it will be in any way challenging, thematically
indigestible or otherwise unsafe for consumption by regular ol'
formula-habituated mainstream movie audiences.

The film was directed by Clint Eastwood, after all. And it stars
Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon — who, for a true story of a
human-rights hero and a rugby player, probably are the most obvious
casting choices around. Just try not to think of Invictus as
cultural colonialism, and everything will be fine.

"Unconquered" is what that title means, as in "Out of the night that
covers me, / Black as the Pit from pole to pole, / I thank whatever
gods may be / For my unconquerable soul." Written in 1875 by the
British poet William Ernest Henley, those lines, and the dozen others
that follow, supplied Nelson Mandela with words to live by during the
27 years of prison captivity he endured until 1990, when
Invictus begins.

"It is that terrorist Mandela — they let him out," a rural
rugby coach says to his team in the movie's first few minutes.
"Remember this day, boys. This is the day our country went to the
dogs." Of course, the poor black kids playing soccer behind a fence
across the street don't see it that way. And then, with a few quick
strokes of Freeman-infused historical montage, and a few tranquil
trumpet notes of Kyle Eastwood's score, the post-Apartheid era, and the
Mandela presidency, has begun.

"He can win an election, but can he run a country?" Freeman says in
his carefully calibrated accent, reading a newspaper headline. "It's a
legitimate question." Lest this moment seem too politically intricate
for American audiences, Eastwood promptly neutralizes it. Imagine an
old Reagan campaign commercial dressed in drag as one for Obama. It's
morning again in the Republic of South Africa. We actually see the sun
rising over shanty towns. We also see Matt Damon as Francois Pienaar,
in a "South Africa Rugby" T-shirt, watching TV news reports of
Mandela's ascendance with interest, and absorbing his father's
reactionary insecurities with a level head.

Notwithstanding the protracted ministrations of establishing his
half-black, half-Afrikaner security detail, it isn't long before the
president has invited the rugby captain to tea, reminded him, with help
from Henley's poem, to be the captain also of his own soul, and told
him, "In order to build our nation, we must all exceed our
expectations." Imagine a social-issue movie dressed in drag as an
inspirational-underdog sports movie.

Thing is, this actually happened. However close the film pushes to
preposterousness, however many post-racial platitudes it regurgitates,
there's no denying Mandela's very real insight that the malleable
symbology of the Springboks rugby team might actually offer his riven
nation a way toward its better future. Anthony Peckham's screenplay
(adapted from John Carlin's book, Playing the Enemy) gets nudgy
and redundant, and Eastwood artlessly follows suit. But the resonant
essence of the story, and its stars' infinite likability, go a long way
on their own.

Morgan Freeman and Visa hope to see you at the Olympics, but if you
can't make it, Invictus should do.